


Purple Nails and Red Sabers

by ImperfectSilence



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars, Gen, Not your typical dark side, OC centric, Sass, a wrench in the force, lawful doesn't mean good, or to the face, the Force works in mysterious ways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence
Summary: When your master decides you're no longer worth teaching, what do you do? I wasn't ready to die, but what other options did I have? Clone Wars AU OC centric since someone asked.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

It is the nature of the dark side to deceive, and to betray. Every master knows this and every pupil learns these lessons first. They are only presented once, only one chance is given to understand them- the Sith have no place for weakness, and an inability to learn is certainly a weakness. Normally a fatal one.

So it was no surprise when my master turned on me. I had been expecting it, had foreseen it, and had prepared for it. But there is only so much you can do to combat the inevitable, only so many powers you can utilize to stop it. The truth was, I was not strong enough to break free of his trap, not wily enough to escape it, and not foolish enough to simply die to it.

He dropped the Jedi on me. Sent me to a planet on the front lines, one where the fight was going badly, and instructed me to bolster our forces by any means necessary. I knew from the summons that this was it, this was where he was cutting me off, casting me out. He had found someone better, someone he thought was more powerful or more manageable or perhaps more entertaining. Who knows why he turned me in, but nevertheless, he did.

I could not run from the orders, could not fight them. His reach was long, and he knew all of my hiding places. Even if I managed to elude him, I’d be watching my back for the rest of my life, waiting for the red flash and burning pain, which is no way to live. So I went to the planet, I fought the clones back, I turned the tide and started winning us battles. We had almost crushed the republic forces, almost beaten them off world when I felt the Jedi arrive.

He or she was a bright beacon of the force, glowing and shining for all to see. No doubt the clones stood taller, their salutes more respectful, their choices more deliberate. It was the boon of having a commander some deemed divinely ordained to lead them. My own forces, being metal and circuit, felt no such inspiration from my presence, even were I to exude the same aura.

We played what had to be a vexing game of cat and mouse along the battlefields, subtlety probing at each other as our forces clashed. He was seeking me out, tracing my insidious ‘poisoning’ of the force, but I was in no mood to be cornered and confronted. So he was left in empty room after empty room, unfulfilled and unchallenged. I was adept at vanishing with the shadows, and disappearing like smoke.

But, like all good things, it came to an end. His forces, under his command, steadily advanced. It was only natural, since the droids had been losing without my intervention, and now that the other side was neutralizing my actions with their own paracausal force, we would lose. He cornered me by the power generators, a foolish centralized affair the local government had constructed. Whoever controlled them controlled the highways and airwaves, the water and shields over the entire planet. Losing it would lose us the planet. So we had to face off.

I waited for him, not in the control room as one would expect, but in the reactor core. Be it a strange choice, but I find I am not like the other darksiders running amok. I care not for casualties and slaughter- it’s too messy. Rather than damage the only power supply on the planet and doom the populace to slow starvation and death, instead we could fight in the most resilient room of the facility, and also one that could disable the entire complex. Enough to mean he had to face me, but there was little chance of accidentally destroying the generators.

He was cautious, and thought ahead. I felt him enter the complex with his squad of commandos and tracked them as they fought through the forces I left in place. But, when I dropped my cloak and he found me, he sent his men off to secure the control room. He would face me alone, without the risk of his men being used against him or as shields. Quite thoughtful.

“Hello there.” He said, lightsaber lit and ready, holding it up to shed light on the dim room.

I rose smoothly, letting my overcloak drop from my shoulders to pool on the ground. I palmed my own lightsaber, but didn’t light it yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll leave if I ask politely?” I say, falling into the trance of force enhanced senses.

“No, I’m afraid my old apprentice would never forgive me if I walked away. He and I have this rivalry you see, and I’m currently up a point.” The Jedi responded in kind, and we circled the room.

“Got to secure that lead.” I said, watching him for movements.

“I don’t suppose you’ll leave if I ask you then? I don’t have to fight you to get that point.” The Jedi asks.

“That would be bad for my health, I’m afraid.”

“So is staying here.” He says, and leaps forward.

I light my saber just in time to block, the red clashing on blue. He was quite determined, but not overly joyous of the clash. A fine, respectable beard- my master spoke from time to time of the judgments of men, and facial hair features often. (My master took great pride in his own beard.) With some effort, I shoved him off of our crossed blades and went on the attack, probing his guard.

“You’re quite skilled.” The Jedi said, meeting all of my attacks with quick, precise movements.

“You have a masterful defense.” I complimented, quick stepping and flipping off the wall to come at him from another angle. His riposte nearly took my leg off, and I had to quickly twist out of the cerulean path he carved.

“You’re a jumpy one.” He shot back, along with a flurry of strikes that rained from every direction.

“Well, staying still never seemed very healthy to me.” I reply, rolling away from the sparks as he clips the containment wall and popping back up to send the curling metal flying at him. He bats the flimsy aside and advances, saber held at a comfortable guard.

I retreat, stepping back and around the circular chamber, keeping ready to counter any attacks he launches.

“Going somewhere?” he asks as I near the door, gesturing it closed with a touch of the force. I try to fight his pull, but he overwhelms my power and the door crashes closed. His head tilts to the side as he launches another set of attacks, but there’s no heart behind them, and they’re easy to counter.

“Did your master not train you in manipulating the force?” he asks.

“It was always a disappointment to him, that I was so strangely connected to the force. He was used to power and weight, crashing down with great force-“

“Did you really just crack a pun?” the Jedi interjects.

“Unintentional, I assure you.” I reply, feinting a set of attacks before launching a real slice, “My own connection is far unlike his own. Whereas he used the force as a mighty flail, my own path is more a dagger in the dark.” I say, slipping a small sliver of power around the containment cell and under his guard, popping a connection in his lightsaber. The blade flickers out, illuminating his shocked look as I dive at the door, slicing through the locks and bursting out-

The squad of commandos on the other side, while surprised, reacts just as they were trained, and their shock rifles bring me down. As I fight the effects of four shock bursts- I hear the Jedi walk out of the dark room and congratulate them before leading them away, muttering, “How curious.”

* * *

I awoke in cuffs, locked in a prison pod, bereft of my weapon. It wasn’t too awful a cell, I had certainly been in worse, but confinement never suited me.

“Sir, the prisoner is awake.” One of the clone on station said into his commlink, a surprisingly nice gesture, as he could have done so from inside his helmet without letting me hear. Doing so outside of his suit meant he had to engage the external speakers and receiver, before saying his piece. Three steps instead of merely one. To echo the Jedi, curious.

It was a short time later that the Jedi strode into the prison block, both our lightsabers clipped to his belt.

“That was some trick you pulled. I had to completely disassemble the thing to get it working again.” He says, crossing his arms and stoking his beard.

“It’s a gift.” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Yes, well, you are full of surprises. Imagine my amazement when the medic who scanned you told me your left arm is inorganic.” He says.

“It’s a great way to smuggle things around. A lightsaber, secret plans, bacta spray, illicit substances.” I purr, “But don’t worry, it’s empty right now.”

“I know. They checked while you were unconscious.” He says drily.

“So that’s where my nail polish went!” I exclaim, “Be careful with it, it’s my last bottle.”

The Jedi looks at me with confusion and incredulity for a moment before sputtering, ”You’re an agent of the Sith, of darkness and devastation.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be all dark and depressing. What, are the ‘bad guys’ not allowed to have nice things?” I ask.

“You’re the council’s problem.” He groans, rubbing his forehead and walking off.

“What about my nail polish?” I shout after him.

“Take it up with the council!” he replies.

I sit back down on the cot, resigned to have to face the Jedi council with chipped nail polish. The sacrifices we make.

Much to my surprise, a day before we arrive in Coruscant space, a small bottle of light blue nail polish is delivered to my cell. It’s not the lavender I’m used to, but it’s better than nothing. With some light use of the force, it’s simply to peel the old polish off the nail and apply the new.

* * *

As they’re leading me off the ship, no less than seven shock rifles trained on me, I finally realize the question I should have been asking all along- whose nail polish was I given?

The ride to the Jedi temple was short but tense- the military bird passing through all checkpoints and taking the priority routes. I can’t image what it would have been like to have taken the public thoroughfare and sat in traffic all the way from the spaceport. We stopped in the Jedi hanger, the transport hovering a foot or two off the ground to unload both the Jedi and me. A party of six Jedi met us, ready to act if I tried to escape or attack. I daintily jumped down, catching my footing with the force, careful of my bound hands. The Jedi hopped down behind me, and everyone tensed. This was my opportunity to try and do something, while he was distracted and off balance. I could grab my blade and attack, or whirl under the craft and run- but I did neither. Instead I waited for him to recover and let myself be escorted to the Council.

We passed a few padawans headed to the practice courts, but none spared us more than a cursory look. They had to know that the temple was expecting a prisoner today. Keeping such information close to the chest would be foolish of the council, since the dark side thrived on uncertainty. Holding you convictions close in a crowd of those unconvinced yet was a power unlike many others. People without strong convictions were so simple to sway, so easy to manipulate. These Jedi were ironclad, almost to a man. There were a few flickering lights, small pools of shadow dripping in corners. Or, as we entered the Council chambers, not so small puddles of darkness.

The council was mostly absent, holograms of the deployed generals ghosting in to view the interrogation? Meeting? Whatever this was. But there were a few present. Master Yoda, the ancient and powerful grandmaster sat in his chair. To his right, after a few blue ghosts, was master Plo Koon, the mediator. More followed, ones I was not familiar with, until I got to the left of master Yoda. Left was Mace Windu, fearless and unbeaten warrior of the faith. It was from him that the darkness pooled. It lapped over his feet like a rancid wave, a poisoned tide. To me it was nothing amiss, so used was I to the mire, but still a surprising find. In the highest echelons of the Jedi order, was the most tempted Jedi I had ever met. The Jedi I faced made to pass off my lightsaber to the council, but with a few whispers he was stopped.

“Me? You elected me to this council?” he hisses, suddenly loud as the other conversations lull.

“Master Kenobi, elect you to this council we did. Your seat, should you take. Eager to get started, we are.” Yoda commands.

“Looks like I’m not so easy to get rid of after all.” I quip, unable to stop myself.

“You’re despicable.” He groans, rubbing his aching forehead already. But his words lack any heat, and the teasing is surprisingly fond.

“Master Kenobi? Explain.” Mace demands, leaning forward in his chair, the waves of darkness at his feet whipping higher.

“He and I discussed some things on the way here, and he found me to be quite vexing. I believe his parting words were, ‘You are the councils’ problem.’ I for one would like to be the first to congratulate master Kenobi on his achievement and his promotion. I look forward to seeing the work he can do from his new position on the council.” I say, grinning and appreciating the whirlwind of emotions the council is trying to suppress.

“I warned you.” Kenobi groans.

“You were brought here by master Kenobi because he thought you could provide us information about your dark master.” Master Windu says.

“If I were inclined to tell you all, which I am not, I’m afraid to say that most of what I could tell you you already know or is quite useless. He trained me aboard a special ship that he travels on, meetings were between assignments and the location changed every time. He was a cruel but efficient master, demanding perfection. Failure was tolerated once per lesson, expect for the most integral ones of being Sith. I am no one special, just a kid who was pulled from the markets of Nal Hutta to be trained up.”

“Your arm, how did that happen?” Plo prods.

“Before I met him. I was running a side job for the majordomo and a shipping crate came undocked and fell. It crushed my arm, completely unrecoverable. Thankfully, I was one of the more useful servants, and so they had it replaced with a mechanical one. As I grew, it was replaced as well. I learned mechanics through it, and now I can replace and alter it by myself, given parts.” I explain.

“What lead you to Norith?” Ki-adi-Mundi asked from one of the holograms.

“My master decided it was time to move on with a new apprentice.”

The council flew into whispers, conversations breaking out.

“Order! Training many apprentices at a time, your master does. What makes you think different, this time is?” Yoda says.

“If you know anything about the Sith then it is obvious, and if you are unaware, then who am I to explain it to you? I could tell he wanted rid of me, so I was sent to that backwater hole. It was only a matter of time before I was killed or a Jedi came after me. Or, I suppose, I could have surprised him and actually taken the planet. Then he’d rethink if he really wanted to have me vanish, and I’d be safe for a while. Or dead immediately. Sadly for him, my story did not end on that rock. Master Kenobi brought me here. I’m sure my old master would be so disappointed.”

“So to sum up this story you’ve concocted, you can provide us no intelligence, no plans, nothing at all- if we trust that you’re being honest. If you aren’t’ being honest with us, then you won’t tell us anything anyway. So why should we keep you?” Mace Windu asked.

“In all honesty, I’ve been wondering why master Kenobi brought me in alive. He is the Sith slayer, after all.” I say. The room is silent, and slowly all eyes turn to look at the newest member of the Council.

“She has a most peculiar way with the force. And she is no Sith to slay- were I unable to sense her use of the force, I would never suspect her to be part of the dark side. She seeks to prevent loss of life, to uphold order and security, and to protect what she has. If not for the twisted darkness I can sense, I’d call her one of us.” He explains. Immediately, almost every other master leaps to their feet to soothe the ruffled feathers of being called like with an obvious Sith Apprentice.


	2. Fate and Fortune

“Order! Order in the council!” Yoda screeches, thumping his stick on the floor a couple times. “Presented us an anomaly, Master Kenobi has.

Like a cat set among the canaries I sat, amused and content. Agonizing over my execution or freedom served no purpose, and thus was pushed from my mind. One should enjoy life pleasure’s, particularly when they seem fleeting.

“I say we kill her. I can feel the taint on her from here, and she brings us no value.” Mace says stoically, ignoring the frenzy of darkness pooled on his boots.

“This is a **Jedi** order, compassion is one of our most sacred tenants, Master Windu.” Ki-Adi-Mundi interjects sharply.

“Sworn enemies of the Sith though.” I chime in, looking over at Kenobi, whose face is in his hands.

“She is unrepentant of her convictions” Master Koon says, voice carefully neutral.

“Imprison her, we could.” Yoda offers.

“We don’t have the manpower to house a dark disciple in the temple with this war going on.” One of the Jedi I don’t recognize says, her lekku swaying forward as she leans in.

“If it helps, I was a rotten student.” I add, to Kenobi’s further consternation.

"Put her in the crèche, we could,” Yoda says amused. “Discipline, she would learn.”

“No.” one of the masters says sharply, with a pained look. “Her with all of the younglings, we’d never contain the chaos.”

“Then what shall we do with her?” Mace implores.

“I would offer to take her with me, but I’m afraid that would be a terrible idea. She would inevitably meet Anakin, and…” Kenobi offers.

“Agreed.” For once, the council is of a firm, unanimous opinion.

“Meet Skywalker, she should not!” Yoda says, pounding his stick on the floor.

“Master Benali’s padawan is here in the temple, is she not?” One of the masters asks.

“Remaining here, she is, until her trails, she can take.” Yoda confirms.

“Don’t see why she needs the formality- she survived.” Plo scoffs.

“She is not a Jedi Knight just yet.” Mace replies, “No matter her accomplishments, she has not passed the final trials.”

“But she has done almost all of them.” Plo argues.

“Spirit and Form, yes, but the trial of Faith, no.” Mundi says.

“Faith is a joke! No one has failed faith in decades.” Obi-wan says.

“Failed faith, your master did. Thrice.” Yoda says.

“Qui-gon was more stubborn than his own good.” Obi-wan defends.

“Who is this lass you all keep talking about? If I’m to be living along her for some time, I’d like to meet her.” I interject, reminding the council of the frog among the toads.

“You, stay quiet.” Mace Windu dismisses.

“Rude. Did your master not teach you diplomacy? Or manners?” I reply, shocking the council into silence. “I mean, seriously, you dismiss everyone you talk to like they don’t matter. I thought Jedi were like Master Kenobi, all composed and dignified, compassionate and humble. You’re like a wampa waking up after hibernation. If people met you and no other jedi I understand why they would want to secede.” I say, continuing in the silence and casually adjusting my seat. (I could see the wave of shock go through the council as they realized that I was no longer bound. Only master Kenobi seemed amused, however.)

“Master Yoda, you seem to be quiet. What are your thoughts, independent of the rest of this council, and the tenants of the Jedi code, your personal opinion with no weight in the matter?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Vexing, Master Kenobi claimed you to be. Understatement, that was.” He replies calmly, while half the council fumble for their lightsabers. “On the nearest transport, would throw you if I could. Trouble, you are. Only my opinion, outside of my status.”

“Thank you.”I say, nodding appreciation to the green troll who’s presence in the force is like staring at a gas giant from a small shuttle.

Calmly, I let them rebind my hands, watching the council around the room. I wink at Obi-wan, who groans and rubs his head.

“She’s proven to be slippery and uncooperative.” Mace Windu starts, ignoring my observations. “I vote we get rid of her, one way or another.”

“I vote no to that proposal.” Kenobi says, “She is no danger to us, and her unique adaptations to the force could yield some interesting new techniques. Plus, she is unlike any force user I have ever met.”

“Those are good points, if they are true.” Master Koon says, looking at me, “What are some of these unique adaptations master Kenobi mentioned?”

“She can manipulate a lightsaber, disable it in combat. Her touch with the force is lighter than anything I’ve ever seen and--“ The entire council halts and turn as one to look at me. I sit calmly, one leg thrown over the other, examining my nails.

“Yes?” I ask.

“You disappeared from the living force.” Mundi prompts. “One moment you were sitting here, the next you vanish. It’s like the force simply flows around you unobstructed.”

“That is what drew my master to me originally. I nicked his speeder keys, his commlink, and his lightsaber.” I reply, letting the pressure out from inside me, and smirking as the entire council visibly relaxes as their senses and eyes agree again.

“Phenomenal.” Master Kenobi breathes.

“I don’t plan on teaching you anything- I’ve yet to hear a reason for me to help you.”

“Aside from your life?” Windu asks.

“I have no illusions about my mortality. I will die sooner or later. You all are not the type to make it slow and painful- most likely you’d behead me as you’ve done half of the other acolytes you found. Quick and mostly painless.” I say.

“Gone about this backwards, we have. An offer, make us.” Yoda says.

“Protection from my old master. My life, obviously. A home, limited freedoms. Access to the library- all of the library.” The council looked very happy until it came to the final demand.

“Absolutely not.” Mace Windu said.

“Let’s not be hasty.” Plo Koon says, “There are some sections of the Jedi Library that none are allowed to see, barring Master Yoda. We are willing to allow you into all of the public sections of the library, but the restricted we cannot allow.”

“Then we have no deal.” I reply.

“What is your interest in the Jedi Library?” The newest master asks, glaring at me for his headache.

“It varies. I wish to perfect my saber forms, but I assume sparring partners would be no chore to find. Beyond that, I’m curious to the history of the Jedi order, particularly in the darker days of the Old Republic around the Mandolorian wars.” I reply easily.

“You did not ask to keep your lightsaber.” Master Mundi says probingly.

“I did. Asking for a weapon right now, so clearly an enemy and unknown, would be foolish. I can learn forms with the practice sabers, or even the youngling dowel rods.” I explain.

“So history and saber forms, is that all you seek to learn?” Kenobi asks.

“Of course not! The Jedi temple library is renowned for its size. Who knows what will catch my interest. I’d love to try my hand at learning healing, or shape manipulation, lighting, astral projection.” I say.

Judging from the dry look, no one missed the art I tried to slip in.

“We cannot allow you to train in Sith tenants in our halls.” Plo Koon says.

“The first recorded use of force lightning was actually a Jedi, back before the first war with mandalore.” I chirp.

“No.” Mace says. I try not to pout.

“Agree to these terms, I will, with one addendum. A Jedi Master must approve all material that is not public from the library before you may request it. Agree to this, you will.” Yoda says.

“That is a reasonable request,” I concede, “I accept.”

“Good. Placed with Padawan Taillow, you will be. Watch over you, she will during her recovery. Cause trouble, you will not. At our graces, living you are. Now, time for dinner, it is. This meeting, an end to it I call.”

* * *

I follow the line of Jedi, grumbling slightly at the last minute addendums to our agreement, but mostly satisfied. It’s more than I should have expected, and possibly more than I deserve.

“I hope you are happy.” Kenobi says as we trudge along.

“With what? I’m a prisoner here.” I reply.

“You’re alive. And you got everything you wanted from the council.” He says.

“I think about a third of them bought my harmless act.” I reply casually.

“Probably. I did try to warn them.” He says, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“So I have to ask, whose nail polish did you give me?” I ask as we approach a flight of stairs and he nearly misses the railing.

“What nail polish?” he asks.

“This one?” I say, holding up a hand for him to see. “Blue, not purple.”

“Must have been one of the clones.” He says convincingly.

“Sure. One of the clones who are taught in vitro warfare and tactics, to follow orders and be loyal to the republic. Nail polish and kindness probably got covered when, eight months old? Nine?”

“I don’t know who gave that to you, but I hope you thanked them.” He says, gathering his dignity.

“Anonymity makes that difficult, wouldn’t you say so?” I ask.

“I’m sure, as annoying as you are, you will find them.” He says, stepping quickly to try and escape.

Reaching out, I snag his wrist. “Thanks for arguing for me, and bringing me here. And I’m sorry about the headaches.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t make me regret it.” He says sternly.

“No promises.” I say back, tapping his forehead and vanishing his headache before slipping past him into the mess hall.

Behind me, I hear the jostling when he doesn’t move, and I can almost feel his confusion and curiosity.

* * *

Dinner, as the Masters called it, was barely palatable. I’m not sure if they’re getting used to rations from the field, but the food is bland and formless. I think about trying to grab a table with Master Kenobi, but decide I’ve bothered him enough for now, and he deserves a break. Instead, I pick an empty table and plop down, poking at the food before slowly choking it down.

“Try it with some of the pepper.” A girl says, sitting across from me. “It makes it slightly more bearable. I haven’t seen you around here; you must have transferred from one of the other temples. The food better there?”

“Much.” I quip, shaking a liberal amount of the flakes on the slop.

“So what was the other temple like? What brings you here?” She asks.

“It was a lot more open about timing and tradition. Less restrictive. Demanding about performance, but less structured.” I answer, thinking about the smattering of Sith trainings I endured.

“That sounds really nice. To just practice whatever you want whenever, to not fight for space and time and have to worry about running into someone else’s slot.”

“I came here for the library. We didn’t have anywhere near the resources that you have here.” I say, answering her other question.

“That’s true. We do have a massive library, even if half of it is off limits.” She says wistfully. “So what are you studying?”

“Well, I ran out of material for my saber forms. I’m working on a hybrid of forms 4 through 6.”

“Wow, trying to work on a triplicate mastery?” She jokes.

“Ataru fits my preferred style, of swift and rapid aggressive maneuvers assisted by the force. But, as an adept, I cannot overlook my ability to use the force to my advantage. At the same time, it just makes sense to use my maneuverability to my advantage.” I explain to her thoughtful pondering.

“My own master was teaching me bits of forms three and four.”

“Let me guess, powerful defense, but mobile?” I infer.

“Exactly their thoughts.” She says. “So what do you do beyond sabers?”

“I like to learn about the history of the order. I’ve studied back to the second mandalorian war, but beyond that we just didn’t have the records.” I say, scraping away the last of the paste.

“Not going to hide it, I find that stuff super boring. Me, I’d much rather work on my sensing.”

“Sensing?” I ask.

“It’s a gift I have, I’m really good at finding force signatures and picking things out. ‘Finely Tuned’ my master called it.” She jokes.

“That’s funny.” I say, trying to hide a laugh.

“Why do you say that?” she asks.

“Back at my old temple, I was the best at hide and find.”

“No way. I have the record here, and I’m not losing to some newbie. It doesn’t matter how good your senses are. We need to set up a game and see who’s better.”

“I’m not sure they’ll let us do that.” I say with a rueful smile, as Mace and Plo stand and start to walk over.

“Why not?” she asks.

“I see you two have met, good.” Plo says.

“Tailow, this is the new prisoner.” Mace continues.

“Prisoner?!”

“Yep.” I say, “My last temple wasn’t exactly a Jedi one.”

“Please tell me you were a grey.” She begs.

“Sorry.” I say, winking and pulling my force inwards, wrapping around my shoulders and vanishing from her force senses. “I was trained by Darth-“ Whatever I was going to say next was knocked out of me by Mace’s heavy hand. My cloak slipped off and the force returned to flowing through me.

“You’ll be overseeing her while she stays in the temple. I’ll have the terms of her agreement sent to your commlink.”

“We’re going to have a great time.” I smile, straining under Mace’s grip.

* * *

The slight friendship we started is frosty and over by the time we go back to her quarters. She has a pair of rooms near the center of the temple, in a cozy but unimportant wing. They’re clean and mostly sparse, but there are a few tokens of life: a plant growing in the window, a tapestry hanging from the wall, scented shampoo in the fresher. My room is Spartan and clean, with no life to it whatsoever.

“Home.” I say, trying to be positive. I tug off my cloak and turn to hang it up, only to hear the gasp from the doorway.

“What happened?” Tailow asks with horror.

“The arm? It was an accident before I was found by-“

“No, the bruises. And the dents.”

“Oh.” I say, craning my neck to look over. Indeed, on my shoulders are blue and purpling bruises that I’m sure would match Mace’s hands. On the other side, dented into the metal of my shoulder are his fingers. “Nothing much.”

“Nothing much?” She says, aghast, “no matter who you are, that happened to you in a Jedi temple. By a Jedi master!”

“I hate that I have to be the one to tell you this, but the galaxy isn’t a nice place.” I say calmly, rubbing my hand over the dents in my arm.

“But, we’re Jedi!” she protests.

“Yeah, you are.” I say quietly. “Doesn’t change a thing about what you’ve done what you call yourself. The galaxy judges on actions, not words.”

“But, we’re Jedi.” She says quietly, and I can hear the fighting in her voice, the questions racing through her head. The wavering of her convictions.

“What did the term Jedi mean, when it came to prominence?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” She says, looking back at me.

“Homework then.” I say, closing the door in her face.


End file.
